Squib
by Inconceivable Me
Summary: Argus Filch is eleven and eagerly awaiting his Hogwarts acceptance letter.


**Well, I was trying to write a different story, but I was getting frustrated. So instead of beating my head against a wall, I figured I'd write this. Enjoy.**

It's a beautiful summer morning, and my parents, my two sisters and I are sitting down for a wonderful breakfast at the kitchen table.

"I bet the Hogwarts letters will be arriving soon. I just got an owl from Amelia- she just got hers." My older sister, Hera, proclaims. She's going into her fifth year at school.

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts! I wonder what House I'll be in. Hopefully Slytherin like you all!" I say. Finally, I'm old enough to go to the amazing place where everyone goes and everyone loves.

"Well you haven't been accepted yet. Maybe you're a squib and you'll end up having to a muggle school." Hera smirks.

"Hera!" Mum scolds.

"What? We've all been thinking it! He has never shown any magical ability. Not once!" My dear sister defends herself. No one speaks for a moment. I guess dear Mum and Dad aren't going to deny her claims.

"Well I haven't thought that! Argus will be a great wizard," my eight-year-old sister, Eirene, declares. Out of everyone in my family, only little Eiree ever truly believes in me.

Hera snorts at Eiree's statement, but before she can comment, a Barn Owl swoops down onto the kitchen table. "Finally!" she screeches, and quickly relieves the owl of its burden. It flies back out through the window.

"No way! I made prefect! Can you believe it? Out of all the girls in Slytherin, they chose me!"

"Oh wow, congratulations Hera! I'm so proud of you." My mom hugs her.

"I think a celebration is in order! We'll get you something pretty when we go to Diagon Alley for your school stuff. Hand me your supplies list. You too, son." My father says.

"Hera still has my letter," I say.

"No I don't. I thought you grabbed it."

"I didn't. Seriously, where's my letter?"

"I said I don't have it! Maybe you didn't get one!" The room falls silent. I didn't get a letter? But that means…no, there must be some kind of mistake.

"Well then, I guess I should write to Professor Dippet. He must have forgotten to send my letter." And without sparing another glance at my family, I excuse myself from the table and head up to my room.

I find a quill and a piece of parchment buried under a pile of books on my desk. I sit down, and think. Now what to write?

After about half an hour, I have my letter written. It reads:

_Dear Professor Dippet,_

_Today, July 21, at approximately 10:30 a.m., an owl arrived, carrying the standard Hogwarts acceptance letter. There was only one letter, though, addressed to my sister, Hera. I am writing to enquire about my letter. My family would like to buy our supplies, so it would be appreciated if you could send it as soon as possible._

_Thank you,_

_Argus Filch_

Satisfied, I role up the parchment and go back downstairs. I find my mum in the kitchen, magically washing the dishes and scrubbing down the counters.

"Mum, may I borrow Athena?" Athena is the family owl.

"Of course, Dear."

.

The next morning finds the four of us once again sitting around the kitchen table.

"So I was thinking we should go to Diagon Alley today. The longer we wait, the more packed it will be with all of those last-minutes school shoppers," my father announces.

"No! I haven't gotten my letter yet. How are we supposed to know what to buy?"

"Argus, you didn't get a letter. Maybe you didn't get in."

"They forgot! Just you wait; an owl will be here any moment with my letter."

A few awkward seconds follow my outburst. Finally, my mother opens her mouth to give her input, but before she can say anything, Athena returns, a letter clutched in her talons. I grin triumphantly when I see the Hogwarts crest on the back of the envelope

"See, I told you! It was all just a mistake!" I say as I break the seal and open the letter. I'm giddy with excitement as I read my letter aloud.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
><em>of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<em>

_Headmaster: Armando Dippet_

_Dear Mr. Filch,_

_We regret to inform you that you have been not been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After extensive evaluation, we have found no evidence that you possess any magical prowess. We apologize for the confusion._

_Yours sincerely,_  
><em>Albus Dumbledore<em>  
><em>Deputy Headmaster<em>

I can't believe it. I am a squib. My mother is a witch, my father is a wizard, my older sister is a witch, and my younger sister is already doing accidental magic. But me, I'm a squib. Essentially a lowly muggle, except I come from a magical family. I will never purchase my very own wand at Olivander's, or get sorted into a House, nor will I ever get to eat in the Great Hall with my peers, play on a Quidditch team, make a potion, turn a mouse into a matchbox, or any of the other things that I've been dreaming about my whole life.

"Maybe going to a muggle school won't be so bad." Eiree tries to comfort me.

"Yeah, and maybe they're not filthy, disgusting creatures, too," I spit at her and stomp to my room, slamming the door behind me.


End file.
